


Sunlight in the Garden

by fewthistle



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fewthistle/pseuds/fewthistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She meant to say that she couldn't keep hurting her..." Title and lines of poetry from Louis MacNeice's poem, "Sunlight On the Garden", which can be found at the end. Unbeta'd, short and rather morose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight in the Garden

**_The sunlight on the garden/ Hardens and grows cold_ **

She meant to say that she couldn't keep hurting her. She desperately wished to tell Andrea that she simply could not bear to watch the planes of her face soften and melt, like ice cream in the sun, wide eyes growing wider as another in a long line of unkind words whirred like a dervish through the space between them.

She longed to tell the girl that she was so exhausted, so tired of fucking things up that there were days that she wondered how she managed to navigate the room under her own power.

What came out was: "You need to go. I simply can't do this anymore."

**_When all is told/ we cannot beg for pardon_.**

The surprised hurt in the girl's face always gave her pause. She had shattered every moment of tenderness, stripped bare every gesture, laid waste to every one of Andrea's softly spoken words of love. Broken them as casually as the Lalique tumbler that slipped from her fingers to splinter into a thousand pieces against the marble floor of the kitchen.

And Andrea still managed to look surprised. As if this time, magically, by the grace of a far more generous God than Miranda ever believed in, things would be different. As if all the accidental smiles and shared glances, all the teasing brush of fingers and all the teasing brush of lips could somehow reshape Miranda into a woman who knew how to be happy. Into a woman who knew how to love.

"I'm sorry, Andrea. I just can't do this."

When the girl was gone, Miranda knew that she would sit very quietly and commit to memory all the things she knew of Andrea Sachs. Force her mind to catalog each moment, each still, frame by frame, the pain of it fresh and sharp and heady. Odd, really. She wanted to tell Andrea that she loved her. That Andrea had made her life as close to content as she had ever experienced. That she wished she could be what Andy deserved. Or at least, what she wanted.

As the girl turned to leave, Miranda took in a deep breath and spoke.

"Tell anyone and I will ruin you."

**_We are dying, Egypt, dying/and not expecting pardon._ **

 

_The sunlight on the garden_  
Hardens and grows cold,  
We cannot cage the minute  
Within its nets of gold;  
When all is told  
We cannot beg for pardon. 

Our freedom as free lances  
Advances towards its end;  
The earth compels, upon it  
Sonnets and birds descend;  
And soon, my friend,  
We shall have no time for dances. 

The sky was good for flying  
Defying the church bells  
And every evil iron  
Siren and what it tells:  
The earth compels,  
We are dying, Egypt, dying 

And not expecting pardon,  
Hardened in heart anew,  
But glad to have sat under  
Thunder and rain with you,  
And grateful too  
For sunlight on the garden.

Louis MacNeice. 

 


End file.
